


It’s hard to hear your name when I haven’t seen you in so long

by Someonewhosfunny



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angsty Schmoop, Character Study, Drabble, Flashbacks, M/M, Reflection, takes place while Cesc is in London with Chelsea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1929861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someonewhosfunny/pseuds/Someonewhosfunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rain fell down on Cesc as he walked through the familiar streets. It felt like a lifetime ago that he'd been here. He was older now, but sadly that didn't seem like such a good thing. He was lonelier in some ways than he had been the first time. He wondered briefly if Chelsea made everyone feel that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It’s hard to hear your name when I haven’t seen you in so long

**Author's Note:**

> Title from amnesia by 5sos. This summary has nothing to do with the story, but it sets the mood. This is basically a stream of consciousness about Cesc. This is basically like two of sernando things I posted about a year ago, but this time its not set in Fernando's head. I love Chelsea as a club, I swear, but somehow I can't resist writing angst about people being at the club. Anyway, I don't love this style. Despite the fact that I post a lot of works like this, I actually write so few things in this style. They're just easier to edit and post than my other stuff. This could be awful, but I write a disgusting amount of fabsillas stuff that I never post so I thought I'd start with this and maybe post more. So anyway, if you've gotten through this terrible intro, enjoy! I hope it's not as irrelevant as I feel like it is.

            I saw the sun today and I thought of you. It was weird, because the sun is so common; its everywhere. It has to shine every day, or else we’d all probably die. But now it makes sense, why it makes me think of you. Have you ever really thought about why, Iker? Why things happen? Why I was born exactly 5 years and 349 days after you? In a city that hates yours with more passion than I could even comprehend when I first fell in love with you, my supposed arch enemy. I saw you on the TV, playing in the white jersey I’d scrunch my nose at, just so the other kids wouldn’t tease me. No one knew I was in love with a _madridista_. No one except Geri. One day, we were sitting in the backyard and the heat was unbearable. Our kick about had only lasted twenty minutes before we’d both collapsed to the ground, sweating like mad.

            “I know you’re in love with him,” he’d said.

            “Who?” I asked, playing dumb, because I thought I could.

            But Geri saw through me; he always did.

            “Iker Casillas. That young goalie for Real Madrid.”

            When I didn’t answer right away, he poked me in the leg.

            “You don’t have a shot. He’d never go for someone like you.”

            Despite his harsh words, I knew by his sideways smirk that that was his way of approving.

            Then I moved to England and I didn’t think of you as often. Well, that is sort of a lie. I thought about you way in the back of my head, where I was just barely conscious. I thought I didn’t, but I was wrong. You were always there.

            I remember my first national team call up for the senior side. I’d done well in the U17 World Cup, even winning the Golden Boot, but when I walked towards my new teammates, I was terrified. Every time I turned my head, I saw another Spanish giant, a legend that I had only seen on TV. I was just a young boy living in London. No one would take me seriously. But somehow, they did. And soon, I wasn’t a newcomer anymore. I was a regular.

            So my life progressed normally, for a footballer at least, until the 2010 World Cup. We’d won it and everyone was on a high. Our first world cup. No one could believe it. There was cheering and celebrating and dancing. Champagne was everywhere. People were embracing, hugging, kissing. When you grabbed me by the shoulders, I thought you wanted a hug. But when I felt your lips brush mine, I almost died. Your eyelashes brushed against my cheek and your lips felt like smooth glass gliding across mine. You braced your hands on either side of my face and your rough palms made me feel grounded. It was the best moment of my life.

            I hadn’t done anything extraordinary. I hadn’t even scored a single goal in the whole tournament. I was only a sub, coming on for four games out of seven. Maybe I _had_ assisted the winning goal, but still. You could’ve kissed Iniesta. Or David Villa. But no, you kissed me.

            I moved to Barcelona soon after and that made our love easier. I couldn’t believe I was actually dating Iker Casillas. It took all of my will power not to shout it from roof tops and higher sky writers. I was playing for my boyhood club and dating my childhood crush. It was my 13 year old self’s big dream.

            But dreams don’t last forever. Things change and they become hard. I’m in London again, just like I was when I was seventeen, but it’s different this time. I don’t just miss you in the back of my mind, Iker. I miss you in my bones. My body longs to be near yours and the pain is almost suffocating. Seeing your face in pictures is nothing like seeing the real thing. And even though I don’t have to try and score against you anymore (well not in the league at least), I almost wish I was back at the _clasicos,_ if only to see you in the flesh.

            It hurts to finally have the person you love, only to be forced to leave. I had four amazing years with you in Spain and hopefully I’ll have more.

            I can barely stand it this way, though. So far away from you. The days pass by okay (I like it in London), but the nights are dreadful. I can’t sleep. There’s this physical ache in my chest, and Geri calls me a girl, but it feels like a part of myself has been ripped away. I can’t sleep properly without you, not just by my side, but in my country. It feels like Spain doesn’t even exist anymore. And sometimes the world feels like its crumbling around my bed, but a phone call or text from you makes me forget it all. Nothing bad can happen when you’re around, in any shape or form.

           I just get lonely. I get nervous that you’ll leave me for someone else, one of your teammates or someone beautiful in Spain. I would understand. I really would. Distance is hard as hell and there is no denying it. You told me you wouldn’t leave me, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did. It’s a long way from London to Madrid.

          And there are people close to you, people just as good as me. You hate it when I say this, but it’s true. I’m not so special, Iker. I can be replaced. But you? Never. You’re the most unique and interesting person I’ve ever met. You’re indomitable, irreplaceable. Once my life was touched by you, I knew I would be forever changed. You’re the most special person I’ve ever met. You’re it for me, Iker. I will never love anyone like I love you.

          I’m sorry. It’s late and I’m embarrassingly honest. I just miss you like crazy and I hope you miss me, too.

          Tu eres todo para mi.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Any kind of feedback would be fantastic. I hope you enjoyed it!


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